The Mother Daughter Book Club: Chapter Two
by frenziedquill
Summary: "What if I could look ahead, and see how our stories end?" The original MDBC is grown up now and is restarting the group with their own daughters. Told through the eyes of Diana, Kate, Amy, Evan, and McKayla. Please R/R-I don't own MDBC or Little Women.
1. Chapter 1

Diana

I hate the first day of school.

Not that that's anything unusual. I'm pretty sure no one counts down the days before we can bid summer good-bye and jump back into homework, tests, and getting up early.

But this year I'm especially dreading it. I'm starting middle school!

My parents told me there'd be nothing to worry about. "You'll love Walden," my mom had assured me this morning, smoothing out my jacket. "I remember going there when I was your age. There are so many people, the teachers are nice, and there's so much to do. Trust me, Di. You'll have a great time."

And for a little while, I believed her. But then I get on the bus, and that fleeting feeling of self-assuredness peels away like a wet leaf. One look at those seemingly endless rows of seats, almost all of which are occupied by rowdy kids or whispering cliques, and I seriously think about running back in the house and locking myself in my room for a month or so.

"Uh, Miss? We gotta keep going, hon," the bus driver says patiently. "Just grab a seat anywhere."

Easier said than done. I tentatively wade down the aisle, avoiding wadded-up paper and chewed gum. I scan fervently for an empty seat-something, it seems, that is far rarer in this bus than a clean one. Nearly every row is taken. I finally settle on a seat in the back next to Grace Tucci, who is too busy talking with her friend sitting in front of us to notice me.

We lurch forward, only stopping once more before we pull up in front of school.

"Everybody get off," the bus driver announces, somewhat like a train conductor, and we do. I take my time gathering up my backpack, trying to calm the violent butterflies knocking around in my stomach. I'm sweating so badly my glasses slip and threaten to fall off. I quickly shove them back up the bridge of my nose, which is a geeky move and I know it, but I'm too nervous to care. I make it off the bus just in time to nearly run over Alberta Knowlton, which is the worst thing I could possibly do.

"Watch where you're going!" she snaps, indignantly brushing off her designer jeans like I've spilled something on them. Her sapphire eyes flick menacingly over my outfit, searching for something to disapprove of.

"Couldn't grow out of that hat this summer, I see," she finally smirks, poking at my favorite orange beanie with a well-manicured finger. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I love that hat-I knitted it myself last year, and I hardly ever take it off.

"Leave me alone, Alberta," I mutter, which has no effect on her. She gives me a little superior smile and rushes off into the crowd of kids clamoring in the front hall.

Suddenly I hear my name being called, and I turn to see my best friend and cousin, Kate Hawthorne, fighting her way through a pack of basketball-toting seventh graders. I hurry over, grateful to finally have someone I know around.

"Where were you this morning?" I demand as we walk towards the office. "You weren't on the bus."

"Farm issues," Kate explains matter-of-factly. She shoves her auburn hair back in a ponytail and gives me a wry smile. "Butterbean chose this morning of all mornings to go into labor, and by the time she had given birth, it was so late that my mom had to drive me."

"Really?" Kate knows I love hearing about her farm. "What are you naming the baby?"

"I'm not sure yet," Kate replies, tapping her fingers idly along the wall. "But I'm thinking something sweet-like Butterbean, you know? And by the way, baby goats are called kids."

"Got it," I say as we line up at the registrar's desk. She hands us our schedules and we immediately compare. My heart sinks when Kate shows me hers. We only have Science and English together this year.

"Don't worry, Diana!" Kate says breezily as we make our way to homeroom. "You'll do fine. Just be yourself-it always works!"

Kate heads to her class then, leaving me alone to find a seat for homeroom. There aren't too many students here yet, but enough to figure out that this is going to be a long year. Alberta is sitting in the front row, chatting animatedly with her best friends/clones, Trixie and McKayla. She gives me a little smirk when I come in. I feel my heart freeze up in ice and drop down to the pit of my stomach. It lifts a little when I see that Amy Archer, my sort-of-friend, is in homeroom with me. Amy hasn't changed much since I last saw her. She's really tall for her age, with a creamy complexion and dark almond-shaped eyes. She's half-Chinese, so her hair is amazingly straight and silky. As usual she's wearing her mom's designs-her mom, by the way, is THE Megan Archer, the woman who designed "Gigi by Archer." It's one of the top fashion trends right now, and Amy's always wearing some of her mom's new ideas to gauge reactions. As always, they look stunning on her. At least I'll have someone to talk to, I think.

I think wrong. I wave her over, but she totally ignores me. Instead, she takes a seat in the middle row and stares straight ahead, her back rigid against the blue plastic chair.

Without warning, hot tears prick my eyes. What did I do wrong? I know Amy and I aren't best buddies, but we hang out sometimes. We even went to the Concord Summer Festival together this year. Now, she acts like I never existed!

The day just goes downhill after that. Kate and I don't get to be lab partners in Science-she's paired with McKayla, and I'm paired with Trevor Lyons, the "science geek" who has a not-so-secret crush on me. In English, I get in trouble for talking. And, to top it all off, I accidentally drop my World History book on the teacher's toe. Everyone laughs-except me. And the teacher.

By the end of the day, I'm a wreck. I limply follow Kate onto the bus and regale her with my tales of woe as we head to my house-it's our tradition that we always eat dinner at my house on the first day of school. My mom is an AMAZING cook.

When we get off, I immediately relax. The cheerful soft yellow of our house makes it always feel sunny, even if it is an unseasonably cold Concord fall day. Kate and I hurry up the front porch and I unlock the front door.

"Hi, Mom! We're-oof!" I start to say before nearly tripping over a huge pile of books stacked right in the middle of the hall. I pick up the first one: Sense and Sensibility. My mom's favorite.

"Of course," I murmur to myself, carefully piling the books to one side. Only my mother would leave a stack of classic Austen novels in the front entry hall for everyone to trip over.

My parents, by the way, are obsessed with books. All books-especially classics. My mom loves Jane Austen, and my dad loves Mark Twain and John Steinbeck. So it's no surprise that my mom is a writer. Yep, my mom is an actual author. She usually writes adult historical fiction, like her dad did, but last year she started a series for kids my age. It's actually really good-and I'm not just saying that because she's my mom. Also, my dad is the assistant editor for the Concord Daily newspaper. Both my parents are in love with anything that has to do with writing or reading. Which means a lot of books scattered around the house. We have bookshelves in the kitchen, the family room-we even have one in the bathroom. My mom said her family did the same thing when she was my age, but I don't believe her.

Don't get me wrong, I love reading too. I'm not a big fan of the classics, though. I prefer stuff with more action and mystery than flowery romance. But my mom always says don't worry, I'll grow out of it.

"In here, sweetie," she calls from the kitchen. The wonderful, chocolatey aroma of brownies drifts lazily into the hallway.

Sure enough, my mom is baking when we come in. "Hi, girls!" she exclaims, giving us each a hug and a brownie. "A little first-day-of-school treat," she says, wiping her floury hands on her pink apron-the really old one that say Pies & Prejudice across the chest. I'm surprised it still fits.

"It's a new recipe I'm trying," she continues, putting the mixing bowl in the sink and moving a copy of East of Eden out of the range of brownie batter. "Tell me what you think."

I close my eyes-always a must when I'm trying Mom's new recipes-and sink my teeth into it. It's still warm and slightly soft, flaky around the edges and exploding with chocolate chips.

"Delicious, Mrs. Chadwick," Kate mumbles, wiping crumbs off her chin and giving her a grin, brownie hunks wedged into her braces. Mom smiles back and starts unloading the rest of the brownies onto the cooling rack.

"Glad you like them. Now, run along. Dinner's at six. Oh, and your father called," she pauses, looking right at me. "He's coming home early tonight. He wants to hear all about your first day of school."

"Really?" Dad leaves for work in the afternoons most of the time, and doesn't get home until 7 or 7:30. It's always special when he comes home early.

We leave Mom to her baking and head to my room. "Where's your brother?" Kate asks, glancing at his bedroom as we pass by. I roll my eyes. "Baseball. Where else?" My brother is in 8th grade and lives and breathes Baseball. He's the star pitcher and took his team to State Finals last year-and he won't let anyone forget it, either.

We talk about school for awhile, filling each other in about classmates, weird teachers, and the toughest assignments. We both can agree that 6th grade is not going to be much fun. Then I tell her about Amy and she frowns.

"Amy Archer? Are you sure?" she asks, fiddling with her earring. I nod. "Absolutely. I waved to her and saved her a seat and everything, but she totally ignored me. It was like I was invisible or something."

"And Alberta? Was she-"

"All over her," I confirmed, nodding grimly. "Alberta and her backup were gushing about Amy's clothes as usual, but for once Amy didn't seem to want to talk to even them."

"She's probably getting stuck up or something," Kate says darkly. "I hope not," I mumble, playing with the laces on my Converse. Amy's not my best friend in the world, but she's the only girl in my class that I am close to. How can I survive 6th grade without her?

A little later my dad comes home with Adam, my brother, and we all sit down for dinner. My mom has really outdone herself-she made roast chicken with stuffing, homemade rolls, and caesar salad, my all-time favorite. We all stuff our faces.

"So how was school today, you two? I mean-you three. Sorry, Kate," My dad smiles apologetically.

"Great!" Adam pipes up. "Coach is putting me in first rotation on Saturday. He says that the team depends on me this year a lot more. Plus, we have a chance of going all the way to Little League nationals this year if we step up our game." He glances at Dad and grins sheepishly. "Oh, yeah, and I got some really good classes. I got a really nice English teacher this year. She's new."

"How about you, Diana?" Dad asks me next. "How was your day."

"Oh, you know...the usual," I reply quickly, filling my mouth with chicken.

Mom shifts in her seat. "Well, seeing as this is your first day at Walden, I'm not sure what the usual is. What is the usual, dear?"

"We didn't make the same classes," Kate pipes up. I swallow hard and nod. "I'm in a class with Amy Archer this year," I offer. Mom's brow furrows. "Amy Archer...? Oh, yes, Megan's daughter. Well, that should be nice, won't it? She's such a sweet girl."

Kate and I don't say anything.

"I have to say, I haven't seen Megan for the longest time. I keep meaning to call her, but she's always so busy-you know, with her fashion line and everything," Mom continues, eyeing Kate and me strangely.

"Well, then, thank goodness you decided to bring this up," Dad replies, patting her hand affectionately. "I thought it was a marvelous idea from the start, and everyone else thought it was great, too, so-"

"What was a great idea?" I ask suspiciously. Mom's grinning from ear to ear now. Uh-oh. the last time I saw her this happy was when we went on that walking tour of Historic Concord that took 6 hours. Trust me-not fun.

"Well, girls-you, too, Kate," Mom says, her eyes dancing behind her wire-framed glasses. My dad says writers who wear glasses look even more distinguished. I just think they make her look pretty.

"A few other mothers and I were talking, and we decided-well, do you remember that book club that I was in when I was your age? The Mother-Daughter Book Club?"

"Yes..." Suddenly I know what's coming and I'm not sure I like it.

"Well, we thought it would be an excellent idea to restart it! It's the Mother-Daughter Book Club, Chapter Two! Isn't it exciting?"

"Umm..." I glance over at Kate, whose face is impassive. Adam's smirking to himself into his plate of chicken. Dad looks like it's the greatest idea since eBooks.

I think it's the worst thing that's happened all day.

And a lot of bad things happened today.


	2. Chapter 2

Amy

Right now, it's just me and the ice.

The silence on the rink is deafening, broken only occasionally by my breathing and the sharp scratch of metal blade slicing into the frozen floor.

Trust me, I'm not usually this poetic. It's just that when I'm skating, everything comes into sharper focus. My senses are heightened and my mind is so clear I can think about anything and it's all right.

Sorry, I'm rambling again.

I glide along the length of the rink twice more, then start practicing my twirls and jumps for awhile before heading over to the bleachers to take off my skates. I'm breathing hard and sweat is trickling down my temples. I slip off my rental skates and massage my feet-I love skating and everything, but getting used to it can be hard on them. Thank goodness I didn't paint my toenails this weekend.

Suddenly my phone buzzes in my backpack. I dig it out and check the number. It's Mom. COME HOME NOW, she's texted me. I groan and toss my phone back in my bag. I hand my skates back to the manager and head to the locker rooms to change out of my sweats. I pull on a pair of Gigi by Archer jeans-designer, and not even on the runway yet-and a Gigi by Archer red and pink striped hoodie - it's designer all right, but not nearly as new.

Did I mention my mom is the designer of Gigi by Archer?

"Gigi by Archer" is my mom's company. She started working on it in when she was about 12-no kidding-and she's been designing living, breathing clothes since college. Well, actually, since she was 13, if you count her line of French baby clothes called "Bebe Soléil." Uh-huh. My mom is what you would call "Driven."

This is not a good thing.

It's great if you're obsessed with colors and fashions and trends and who wore what and where and all that, but if you're not-well, then, it's not so fantastic.

I'd much rather be ice skating, like Evan Wallace. My mom knows her mom and she was in my class last year. Evan grew up on the ice, and her mom is the president of the Concord Youth Hockey Association. Evan is amazing-of course, I'd never tell her that, even if she would talk to me. Her mom wanted her to do hockey, but instead Evan decided to do ice dancing. Turns out Evan does her own solo dancing that she calls Spice and Ice. It's like punk rock on ice. I've seen her do it before. It's awesome.

Ever since I heard about Evan and ice skating, I've been obsessed with it. I won a free lesson at the school auction last year and I loved it. Now, it's all I want to do.

But then my mom had something to say about it.

"Oh, sweetie, ice skating? That's so overdone in this town. I know Cassidy and Evan do it, but really, dear, you have so much more potential. I swear, you're so tall for your age-you could be a model in one of my shows! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Uh. No.

Ever since that, I've been sneaking off to the local rink to skate. I tell my mom I'm going to the library or the bookstore and then just skate for an hour or so. She never suspects a thing. Someday, I suppose I'll confront this again, but for now, it's better where it is.

My phone buzzes again. HURRY! My mom texts. I quickly send a reply and wonder what's up that's so urgent. She probably just needs me to model another outfit for her.

I zip home on my bike, taking a few shortcuts past the graveyard and the lumber mill. I fly around the corner, ready to pull into our garage, when I suddenly slam on the brakes and nearly topple over.

There are three cars parked in front of our triple-wide driveway, and one perched on the curb in front of our hose. I don't recognize any of them-could we be having company tonight?

I weave my bike between the cars cautiously before finally getting it into the garage. I pound up the stairs and fling open the mudroom door.

"In here, Amy," my mom calls from the living room. I kick off my sneakers and pad through our heavily carpeted hallway. I can hear several women's voices drifting through the stark walls. Oh, boy. Mom probably invited over her designer friends for biscotti or something.

No such luck.

The first person I see when I come into the room is Diana Chadwick, and I do a double take. I didn't invite her over-did I? No way. Her face is a mask behind her tortoiseshell glasses. I can tell she remembers this morning.

"What's going on?" I blurt out, walking into the room. I see Diana is far from alone here -on the contrary, Kate Hawthorne, Evan Wallace, and McKayla Taylor are all perched uncomfortably on the spindly silver-and-white furniture, along with their moms, who are all grinning like they just won a free trip to Hawaii.

"Come sit down, sweetheart," my mom pats to seat next to her on the white leather love seat. She's dressed to match the furniture tonight-a pair of white straight-leg slacks and a matching jacket over a silky silver blouse. I slip through the room and quickly settle onto the couch. Everyone's staring at me and I instinctively blush. Did I do something wrong?

"Well, Amy, I'm sure you're wondering why we're all gathered in here this evening," Mrs. Chadwick starts off. She smiles warmly at all the girls, who look like they're praying for the floor to swallow them up right now.

"I'm sure you're all quite curious." She glides over to her purse, which is stationed under McKayla Taylor's Uggs. "Oh, excuse me, McKayla, sweetie," Mrs. Chadwick says, and bends down to grab something out of her bag. McKayla looks about two seconds away from an eye roll. Instead, she just pulls her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and starts texting furiously. I swear, I don't understand how she can text that fast. Well, I guess I probably could, too, if I spent four hundred hours a day on my cell phone.

Suddenly, McKayla's mom sticks out her hand and snatches away the phone. McKayla sits bolt upright like she's been zapped with lightning and glares at her mom. "Mo-THER!" she whines. Her mom raises an eyebrow and McKayla slumps back into the couch, defeated.

"Now, then," Mrs. Chadwick continues crisply. "I'm sure you're all wondering exactly what we're all here for. Well," she pauses, supposedly mounting suspense. Nobody bats and eye.

"We're starting a Mother Daughter Book-Club!" the moms chorus in unison.

It's dead silence.

I can't help it. My jaw drops. I glance around the room-Evan's doing the exact same thing. She's staring at her mom like she can't believe it. Diana and Kate must already know because they're the only ones who don't look shocked - just pained.

"We did book club when we were your age, and we had such a good time," Evan's mom pipes up. She looks just like Evan - trademark red hair, tonight yanked back in a bun, and stormy grey eyes. She's wearing faded jeans and a sweatshirt with BOSTON PATRIOTS emblazoned across the front. Mrs. Wallace coaches the Patriots, the Massachusetts Hockey Team, here at the Eva Bergson Memorial Ice Rink. She's even married to one of the former players. Man, I want to ask her about maybe giving me lessons, but now is definitely not the time.

"You'll all have a lot of fun, trust me," Kate's mom agrees, patting Kate on the shoulder. Kate sure doesn't look like she's having a lot of fun. She catches my glance and quickly looks away.

"The book we're going to be starting out with is Little Women," Mrs. Chadwick announces, holding up a copy of the book.

She can't be serious! "What?" I explode. "We're really reading Little Women?"

"But...it's so long!" McKayla protests, eyeing the book like it's a dead rat. "It's like...500 pages!"

"You're about right," My mother confirms. "It is a very long book. But, we'll be reading it as a group all year long. You'll each read the allotted chapters each month, and then, at our meetings, we'll talk about them."

I rest my head on the cushion and sigh. Little Women, of all books! It's always been one of those gigantic novels that I come across every now and then at the library, flip through just to double check that there are really 500 pages (depending on the version) and then laugh, promising myself I'll NEVER read that enormous thing and wondering why anyone ever would.

"Now, we know this seems like a huge undertaking," Mrs. Hawthorne begins. "We thought it was, too, when we first read it. But believe me, it really is a delightful story and you'll all love it."

"OK, then!" McKayla's mom claps her hands and pulls out five pale purple folders. THE MOTHER-DAUGHTER BOOK CLUB: CHAPTER TWO is scrawled across the front of each one of them. "Now, this is to hold our handouts, which have facts about the author. We will give those out each month after we get started on the book. The next meeting is going to be this time next month at Evan and Mrs. Wallace's house. Please read the first three chapters of the book before then." She squeals and claps her hands. "This is going to be so fun! I can't wait. All right, what do you all say to some ice cream?"

"Well, you're in luck!" Mrs. Hawthorne hefts a plastic bag. "I brought some Half Moon Farm organic goat's milk ice cream just for this occasion-freshly made!"

All the moms cheer, but I catch McKayla giving Kate the "gag me" sign. Kate glares at her with her steel-blue eyes and whips her head around, sending her pile of pale auburn curls flying like a spray of copper droplets.

I feel like glaring at McKayla, too. Sure, I'm no fan of goat's milk-I mean, who is?-but I'm a lesser fan of McKayla. She's one of Alberta's backup at school, and is almost as venomous as she is.

The "celebratory ice cream" is a little subdued. Mostly the moms reminisce about the first time they read Little Women. Then everyone leaves slowly, saying their goodbyes.

When everyone's gone, my mom glances at me. "Amy, why were you so late?"

"I didn't know we had...book club," I reply, turning around so she can't see my red face. "Besides, my phone was turned off, you know," I pause, thinking of a good excuse. "Library rules."

Mom nods slowly, then shrugs. "Well, all right. Listen, I'll call Marie tomorrow and see if there's an opening at my next show. You could model that new dress I finished the other day. You looked stunning."

My stomach tightens. "No, thanks, mom. I don't really want-"

"Sure you do," my mom cuts in. "You're just tired, sweetie. Now, why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed, maybe start Little Women. But keep it down-James is already asleep."

I didn't say a word as I went upstairs and changed into my pajamas (Gigi, of course). No, I really didn't want to model in one of Mom's fashion shows. Why couldn't she understand that? She's always talking about how her mom never understood her dreams, but she's doing the same thing to me. Just because I'm her daughter doesn't mean I have to like the same things she does.

Does it?

I think for a minute. Diana and her mom love books. Kate and her mom both love their farm. Evan and her mom both love skating. McKayla and her mom...well, I don't really know, but they sure look alike, anyways.

I shake my head and jump in bed, settling back against the pillows. I hesitate, then reach over and pull Little Women out of my bag. It's really heavy - for a book, anyway. Geez.

I open to the first page, take a deep breath, and read to myself.

" 'Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without any presents,' said Jo, lying on the rug..."


	3. Chapter 3

McKayla

"Quick! He's coming!"

Alberta grabs her purse like a lifeline and begins to tear through it, her spidery fingers maneuvering effortlessly over an array of lip glosses and mascara. She latches on to a bottle of concealer and rubs it vigorously on her forehead.

"Can you see it?" she demands, her eyes darting around. Alberta got a zit on her forehead this morning and has been freaking out ever since.

Trixie, who's standing next to me, shakes her head. "I can't see a thing," She replies. I nod.

"Good, because...Hi, Alex!" Alberta flashes her toothpaste-ad smile as Alex walks by. He gives her a quick glance, nods, then keeps walking.

We wait until he's out of earshot to talk. "Did you see the way he nodded?" Trixie squeals, jumping up and down. "That was totally sweet!"

"Yeah, it was cool, I guess," Alberta responds carelessly, examining her nails like it's no big deal. I have no idea how she does that.

Suddenly the bell rings and it's time for class. We grab our stuff and head down the hall. A lot of people say hello to Alberta, who sometimes replies, calmly and careless as always. Sometimes she doesn't. Nobody says hi to me or Trixie.

"So, what are you going to wear to Jasmine's party tonight?" Alberta asks us as we walk in the classroom. She plunks her backpack down on the chair and hops up onto the desktop. "I'm thinking my turquoise minidress with my black leggings and silver flats."

"That will look amazing, Bertie," Trixie gushes, sliding onto her chair. Trixie practically worships her. I swear, she's practically more interested in what Alberta's doing than her own business.

"How about you, McKayla?" Alberta turns to me, her eyebrows arched expectantly. "What are you going to wear?"

I dip my head, staring hard at the toes of my tennis shoes. "Oh..." I feel the heat creep up in my cheeks. "I'm not going."

"What?" Alberta's eyes flicker. "What do you mean you're not going? Are you sick or something?"

"No..." I force myself to look at her. "My mom's going on a date tonight, and I need to babysit Trisha."

Alberta latches on immediately. "Your mom's dating again? That's...kind of creepy."

"I know," I reply, but I really don't agree. My mom's been divorced almost three years now. She's been pretty sad ever since-really, the first thing to perk her up is book club.

Speaking of which...

"Well, look who it is," Alberta suddenly says, her eyes focused on the doorway. Diana Chadwick slumps into the room, her bright orange beanie pulled low around her eyes. She doesn't say anything to anyone, just sits down and starts unloading her backpack. She pulls out Little Women last.

Alberta jumps off her desk and swoops around the room. She passes by Diana's desk and snatches up the book, smiling triumphantly.

"You're reading THIS?" she exclaims, riffling through the pages. "I didn't know you were that big of a nerd. Who reads Little Women anymore, anyways?"

I don't dare look at either of them. All right, I haven't told Alberta or Trixie about the Mother-Daughter Book Club. Alberta would have a fit if she knew.

But trust Diana to ruin everything.

"We're reading it for book club," she says meekly, picking at the cuff of her jacket. "Give it back!"

Alberta arches her eyebrow. "Book club? Wow, OK, Diana, whatever. Here you go," Alberta fakes a pass to Diana before tossing the book to trixie, who catches it one-handed.

"Hey!" Diana jumps up, her forehead creasing. "Give it back!"

Trixie waves the book over her head, grinning maliciously. Diana's starting to look really worried now. I would be too-that books is one of Mrs. Archer's personal copies. They're kind of antique.

Suddenly, Trixie throws it to me, thumping me squarely in the chest. I grab hold, glancing around. Alberta is motioning towards herself, grinning. Diana looks scared, actually, and a little desperate.

For a minute, I consider giving the book right back to Diana. I mean, she didn't ask for this, and Alberta really had no reason to start this at all. I mean, sure, Diana's pretty geeky and all, but I kind of feel bad for her. I'd probably be upset if someone took my phone or something.

But my sympathy changes to anger in about three seconds. "McKayla, you understand, don't you?" Diana begs. "You're in book club too!"

I'm so shocked I nearly fall over. Alberta turns right to me, a little smirk forming on her lips. "Book club? You two...in the same book club? You failed to tell me that, McKayla."

"It wasn't my idea," I fire back, glaring at Diana, who looks about ready to evaporate.

Alberta smooths out a wrinkle in her sweater and gives me a superior smile. "All right, then, McKayla. Give your little book club pal her book back. And keep an eye on your own copy." Her eyes quiver slightly, shaking with suppressed laughter. "You are reading the same book, right?" With that, she flounces back to her seat with Trixie, laughing. Diana stares at me in a mixture of fear and awe.

"McKayla-"

I don't reply. Instead, I turn on my heel and march back to my seat. How could she?

Alberta and Trixie apologize later, say they were just kidding, and ask me if I'm sure I can't go to the party.

But I'm sure.

Later that night, I'm texting Alberta when my mom walks into the living room wearing a dress. An actual dress. It's surprising for her, since she hardly ever wears anything but jeans or her scrubs.

"How do I look?" she asks me, twirling around. She's wearing a silky-type purple dress with no sleeves. An oversized stack of bracelets jingle on her wrist, and a string of mini crystals hangs on her neck. She looks beautiful. Of course, I can't just say that.

"You look nice," I say tentatively before going back to my phone. Mom laughs. "Thanks for the compliment. Now remember, keep an eye on Trisha. Don't let her get near the electrical sockets, or-"

"Mom! Trisha's 9, not 2!" I try to smile, but I can't. It's a little scary to see my mom actually, like...going out. On an actual date. I mean, isn't that against the rules or something?

Mom frowns. "I'd ask what's going on, but obviously you don't want to talk about it."

I'm on the verge of saying something before the doorbell rings. Mom jumps up and smiles.

"That will be him," she reaches down and ruffles my hair. "Cheer up," she says before rushing off to answer the door.

I wasn't planning on spying, but once I hear the door open I catapult off the couch and slip down the hallway, pressing my back against the wall and straining to listen.

"You look beautiful," I hear a man's voice rumble from the doorframe. My mom laughs. "Oh, thank you. It's so good to see you again, Zach."

Zach. Yes...Zach Norton-my mom's date tonight. I don't know a thing about him, only that he and my mom dated briefly in high school. They got in touch last month and tonight's their first date.

I crane my neck around the corner and catch my first glance of him. He's really tall for one thing-at least 6 inches taller than my mom. His honey blonde-hair is slightly curly, and his eyes are pale blue-grey. He has a nice smile, I concede.

"Would you like to come in?" my mom asks, and I scramble back to the living room and resume texting like I was always there.

I hear my mom's heels clicking on the polished hardwood as she enters the room. "McKayla, this is Mr. Norton. This is my oldest daughter, McKayla."

"Call me Zach," he reaches forward and shakes my hand. I just stare at him.

"I'm gonna have you meet Trisha, and then we're leaving," She looks at me. "There's casserole in the fridge for dinner, McKayla, OK? Love you."

I don't reply, just stare at my phone screen like I'm reading it, even though Alberta stopped texting me fifteen minutes ago.

Later that night, after Trisha's in bed, I go downstairs to finish washing the dishes. It's 9:00 now-Mom should be home soon. She never stays out late, since she's an on-call nurse.

Sure enough, just as I'm starting the dishwasher, the front door opens. Mom and Mr. Norton-sorry, "Zach,"-are laughing.

"Oh, well, I better get going," he rumbles. My mom says thanks and they make another date for next weekend.

Taking the long way, I cut through the den and hurry upstairs so Mom won't see me. I hear her coming upstairs as I jump into bed and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. She comes in quietly, and sits down on my bed.

"McKayla, I know you're awake," she whispers.

Dang it. How does she do that? My eyes spring open. Mom smooths my hair off my face and smiles. "How'd it go?" she asks. I shrug. "Fine, I guess. How'd your date go?"

Mom shrugs. "Fine, I guess," she mimics.

Suddenly the question that's been riddling around in my stomach all day day shoots out. "Are you going to get married?"

Mom stands up. "McKayla Chadwick, where did you get such an idea? We've only gone out once. We're not even thinking about marriage. Now, please don't worry about me. Don't even think about it. Goodnight."

After she leaves, I turn over. Somehow, I start thinking about Little Women, of all things. The March sisters are all worried about their father, who's in the war. I kind of feel the same way about my dad. I haven't seen him since I was 8, when they divorced, but I still wonder about him. If mom did get remarried, would Dad be OK with it? Would he come to the wedding?

Would he still want to be part of the family?

All these questions chase each other around in my head for awhile before I drift off to sleep. At least, for a while. Because I remember waking up in the middle of the night, listening to my mom in her bedroom, crying softly.


	4. Chapter 4

Evan

"EVAN SHAUNA WALLACE! Get in here RIGHT NOW!"

Guiltily, I jump up. "Coming," I reply meekly, slowly shuffling towards the living room. My mom was waiting there, her hands on her hips. Her grey eyes were narrow and stormy as thunderclouds.

"Do you mind telling me WHY Yoda just coughed up a piece of hockey wax?" Mom gestures to our dog, who is lying on the floor, looking up at her mournfully. A mound of paper towels sits nearby.

"Um... I was using it to wax your hockey stick for a surprise, and I must have left it out. Sorry," I finish lamely. Mom sighs.

"Evan, I thank you for the effort to surprise me, but you cannot just forget to leave hockey wax out! That is deadly poison for a dog. Good think it got stuck in his throat and he spat it out. He could have been killed!"

I slump down next to Yoda, who licks my hand thoughtfully. "I know, I know. I'm really, really, really sorry," I say again.

Mom sighs and rubs her forehead. "It's OK, Evan. Just, please keep the polish far away from where Yoda can reach it."

After she leaves, Yoda stands up and whines. I scratch his shaggy head. "Sorry, boy," I say. He regards me solemnly. "Why do you think everything is food?"

Yoda doesn't answer, of course, just wags his tail and grins his doggy grin. He makes me smile anyway, though. Yoda always cheers me up.

"Hey, Evan?" Mom calls in the kitchen. "Better get ready. We're leaving for book club in 15 minutes."

I try not to let her hear me groan. "Sure thing," I call back, standing up and heading upstairs. It's been over two months since book club got started, and I'm still not into it. I mean, read something that weighs about as much as my dog with cliquey Diana and Kate and snotty Amy and McKayla? Um, no thanks. My mom said I'd love it, but I'm still not into it. But I kind of like the characters, though. I like Beth, even though she's way too quiet, and I really like Jo. She's a tomboy, like me. She probably would have liked Spice and Ice.

Fifteen minutes later, we're driving along towards the Hawthorne's house. Mom's talking rapidly into her bluetooth as we drive, putting about 7 people on hold at a time before talking briefly to 13 more. My mom's super busy. In addition to coaching the Boston Bruins (thank you very much), she's president of the Concord Youth Hockey League, which keeps her very busy. Not that I mind. My mom isn't one of those "career women," who obsess about their jobs. She still makes time for me and my dad. Plus, I got to meet all of the Bruins once-it was really, really, cool, plus my mom let me practice with them! (OK, I don't actually play hockey, but I sort of tried! And I only hit that one guy in the face twice!)

As my mom finally shuts off her bluetooth, I stare out the window. "Sorry again for the whole skate wax thing," I say again, slowly. Mom turns to me and pats my shoulder.

"Honey, please, don't worry about it." she says carelessly before turning down an empty road.

But I do, of course. Why am I always doing stupid stuff like this? I really don't mean to. Like when Dad had the flu and I was supposed to give him fish oil-I thought cod liver oil was the same thing! And the time the assistant coach came over to help Mom work out plays-I honestly thought she had a bug on her face...I didn't know it was a mole!

I should really work on my brain-to-mouth filter.

"Here we are," Mom says, pulling into the driveway and parking the car. I stare up at the Hawthorne's house-I mean, farm. I knew they owned one-my mom always buys Half Moon Farm cheese and jam-but I didn't know it was this big!

As we get out of the car, a fat red hen zigzags towards me, clucking frantically. As it starts to peck at the toe of my shoe, the front door bangs open and Kate shoots out, diving for the chicken.

"Kitty Wells, get away from our guests!" she scolds, shooting me an apologetic grin. I return a small smile, but inside I'm incredulous. She actually talks to the chickens? And gives them names? Um, OK then.

Kate leads us inside, depositing the chicken on the front porch. "You have such a lovely home," my mother gushes, turning on her formal attitude. I've only seen her go formal like this for hockey benefit dinners and...well, book club. Most of the time, when she's at home or at the rink, she just hangs around like one of the guys, not afraid to be who she is. Around here, though, I've noticed she's a little stiff.

Everyone's waiting for us when we sit down, and Mrs. Chadwick immediately takes the reigns. "All right, everyone," she says. "We've all been doing great on the reading so far. Diana, why don't you read us the beginning of Chapter nine?"

Diana does, keeping her head down and not looking at anyone. I notice McKayla is twisting in her seat a little. I heard something at school about Alberta stealing Diana's book and messing around with it. Obviously, it hasn't blown over yet, because they both look ready to attack any minute.

When she's finished, Mrs. Chadwick smiles. "Well, what does this tell us about Meg?"

"She feels stupid," Diana speaks up, staring directly at McKayla. "Because she's no as rich as the other girls."

McKayla doesn't miss a beat. "Well, Meg doesn't try to fight it," she snaps back. "She tries on all those fancy clothes and tries to fit in. She ends up looking cool."

"No she doesn't!" Diana retorts. "In the book, Meg ends up looking really dumb because she was trying to look cool and was just PRETENDING the whole time!"

We just started, and already you can cut the tension with a knife. Mrs. Chadwick clears her throat and they both sit down. Wow. That quick little argument cleared the room pretty fast.

"Anyways," she continues quietly. Diana sits down, her face a serious scarlet. "What did anyone else get out of that chapter?"

"I agree with Diana," Kate says quietly, avoiding anyone's gaze. "Meg was too embarrassed to be herself. That's why she looked so ridiculous."

"Exactly," Mrs. Archer cuts in from her perch on a kitchen chair. She looks ready to go on the runway-an artsy pink and orange sundress is draped across her shoulders, and strappy straw sandals show off a hot-pink manicure. Someone should tell her it's December. "It's a lesson in being yourself. If you try to be someone else, you'll just..."

"I GET it!" McKayla stands up. Tears swim in her eyes. "All right, I understand, OK? I shouldn't have let Alberta steal your book, Diana. Be myself, don't follow the crowd. I GET IT, already!"

With that, she bolts out of the room. I hear the screen door squeak open before slamming. McKayla's mom starts after her. "I'm so sorry," she says. "She's been out of sorts ever since last month when Zach and I started going out. I'm afraid we'll have to cut it short tonight. Thanks you. And don't worry, I talk to her and straighten this all out."

When she leaves, there's an uncomfortable pause. "Well, I guess there's no use in continuing on tonight. I apologize about this, girls." Mrs. Chadwick looks like a deflated balloon. We all silently gather our coats and get ready to go. No one looks at each other. I see Diana whisper something to Kate. They nod gravely, and something slips. I'm sick of always sitting there, feeling stupid because Kate and Diana are whispering together or whatever. And McKayla's always acting like everything we say is some major insult. Meanwhile, Amy's always such a snot and no one can talk to her.

"I'm right here!" I snap. Kate and Diana jump up and glance at me guiltily. Kate opens her mouth to say something, but I stalk out of the room before she can. It's like drama central around here.

I duck into the bathroom to wash my hands and think for a second. OK, so two months ago we started a book club. Our moms were so excited, but we weren't. And now-well, nothing's changed. McKayla's a nervous wreck, Amy won't say a word, and no one is paying any attention to the book.

Well, something has to change. Because if I have to go to book club, I am NOT going to sit through it while everyone else stand around with their noses in the air.

When I open the door, Amy is standing outside, fiddling with her hair. "Sorry," she says before slipping through the door. Before she closes it, she looks at my Spice and Ice T-Shirt. "Isn't ice skating fun?" she asks tentatively. I smile. "Yeah! What kind do you do? Hockey, or-"

"I actually haven't started yet," Amy says quickly. "I was just wondering, cause, you know, you skate, and everything, so, like..." she takes a breath. "Do you give lessons? Because if you do, I might want to..."

"Hey, Amy? Hurry up, sweetie!"

"OK, mom!" Amy casts me an apologetic glance before closing the door.

I'm deep in thought the whole way home. Remember what I said, about 3 seconds ago, how book club wasn't any fun because I have no friends there?

Maybe...forget that for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate

It's early morning outside. A thin line of pink-orange sunlight cuts across the horizon, a sure sign of a clear morning. Chores await me in the barn, goats that need milking and eggs that need collecting.

But not right now.

I've been working on this danged sonata for a week, and I still can't get it right. My fingers are flexing fervently, straining as they climb octaves like ladders and rush to be in two places at once. The notes on the page taunt me, flickering like Morse code and squiggling around on the stark white paper.

"Forget it!" I slam the music book shut and chuck it over my shoulder. My piano teacher keeps insisting that I'm ready to tackle Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 23, but I just don't understand it. "You will," Mrs. Pickering had soothed as she handed me the sheet music, smooth and unwrinkled, not like it is now. I still don't believe her.

I probably shouldn't even be practicing right now. I have tons to do in the barn, and I want to be able to shower before the bus comes. It's no fun smelling like wet cow all day. Once I found goat poop on my jeans while I was giving a science presentation. No joke.

Closing my eyes, I stretch my fingers and pull my favorite piano book of all time out of the bench. BROADWAY FAVORITES is emblazoned on the front, but only barely readable now-I've been through this stuff front to back so many times the cover is about to fall off.

I find a suitable song and launch into it, falling quickly into the jaunty rhythm. My body sways, and my feet are tapping wildly against the pedals. The frustration I felt a minute ago melts away, slipping down my back and floating off into the sunny day.

"Kate!"

Mom's voice cuts through the chorus in about two seconds. My hands freeze above the keys. "Coming, Mom!" With a sigh, I heave myself off the piano bench and head outside to start my chores.

The goats are a little irritable when I come into the barn, bleating uncomfortably. "It's all right, girls," I say as I slide onto the milking bench. Butterbean, my favorite milk goat, stumbles over. Her knobby knees knock together awkwardly as I rinse down her udder and begin to milk her. Dulcie, her little newborn, tries in vain to get into the pen with us, bleating pathetically. "Sorry, sweetie," I murmur over the metallic stream of goat milk in the pan. "You can have your mommy back in just a second." Dulcie's chocolate-brown eyes flicker momentarily, knitting under her trademark white stripe.

After the goats are milked, I check the chicken coop for any leftover eggs before circling back to the goat pen to "clean up," which takes longer than I expect. I barely have time to wolf down breakfast before the bus comes. No clean clothes for me today.

The bus horn honks impatiently as I pluck some hay out of my hair and brush the chicken feathers off my jeans. I smell the collar of my T-shirt and recoil. Do goats always smell that bad?

The horn honks again, and I panic. No way am I showing up to school smelling like I slept in the goat pen all night. I sprint upstairs and head to my mom's bathroom, banging open drawers and cabinets desperately.

"Kate! The bus is here, sweetie!" Mom's voice reaches me as my fingers close around the bottle. Parfum de Vénus. Perfect.

"Coming!" I uncork the tiny bottle and dab some on my wrists. Not enough. I still smell goat.

Quick as a flash, I pour the entire bottle's contents into my palm and smear it over my face, rubbing it on my hair and across my shirt. Much better.

I dash downstairs, calling goodbye to my parents as I run out to the bus. "We got a schedule to keep, hon," the bus driver says through slightly gritted teeth as I slip down the aisle. Diana is waiting for me, her heavily keychain-ed backpack draped over the vacant seat. "Where were you? I thought one of your goats was having a baby or something," Diana adjusts her glasses nervously. I shake my head. "Nope. I was just behind. There was-" I break off. "What?"

A weird look has crossed Diana's face. "Do you smell that?" she sniffs the air. "Like...a skunk or moldy vegetables or something." She shrugs. "I dunno. It's probably just me."

As she fishes a book out of her bag, I feel my stomach tighten. The smell...I lift my wrist and inhale. Oh no. Something mom said a long time ago about wearing too much perfume...

"Incoming," Diana mutters as Evan jumps on the bus. She stumps to the back, avoiding our glances. "Hi, Evan," Diana manages. Evan grunts in reply. She hasn't been speaking to any of us since the big blowup last month. Sometimes, though, I catch her talking with Amy in hushed voices.

When we reach school, Diana and hang back to avoid the stampede of kids. Alberta and McKayla swing down the aisle. McKayla isn't talking to us either.

Suddenly, Alberta stops and stares at me. Oh, no. She smells it too.

"What's up with your face, Kate?" A trace of a smirk flits across her over-glossed mouth. Without meaning to, my hand reaches up to my cheek. I feel an angry welt growing there. It can't be...

"It's all red," She continues, her eyes shimmering with malice. She pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and hands it to me. "Take a look."

To my horror, my face stares back from the mirror covered with red welts and rashes. "How'd this happen?" I exclaim as Alberta scampers away. Diana and I get off the bus, me holding my hands to my face. I still get plenty of stares though.

Diana shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe you're allergic to something." She takes another deep sniff and grimaces. "Man, that sure is strong! Are you sure you don't smell anything?"

I feel like screaming. The perfume, of course! I must have been allergic to it. And I was smart enough to rub it all over my FACE!

After a vigorous face-washing in the bathroom during math, the swelling starts to subside, but I still look I got into my mom's lipstick and drew all over my face. At least the smell starts to go away after awhile.

I feel like Amy March when her hand was smacked with a ruler in front of the class. Everyone keeps making faces and sniffing the air. If my mother were like Marmee, she would pull me out of school and let me be homeschooled. Instead, I get grounded for three days for using her perfume without asking. That, and a lot of painful swelling.

A few days later, I'm on my way to Science when Amy stops me in the hall. I'm a little surprised at first, because she's barely said two words to anyone for awhile.

"Do you know where Evan is today?" Her emerald earrings, which I bet are real, bob above her shoulders.

I shake my head. "Sorry, haven't seen her. I think I heard someone say she was sick today."

Amy bites her lip. "Um, OK." She sighs. "What's up?" I ask. I know I'm pressing my luck here, but maybe I'm getting through to her. Maybe I'm not. I can't tell anymore.

"Well, listen, can you keep a secret?" Amy's eyes narrow a little. "That depends." I shift from one foot to another, wondering.

"Well, Evan's been giving me skating lessons after school on Tuesdays and my mom always thinks we're at the library studying. So if she's not here, I don't know what to do."

Amy Archer is apparently not very good under pressure.

"Listen. Just tell your mom the truth-that Evan's sick today and you can't go to the library." Duh.

Amy shrugs. "Um, I guess so. Thanks, Kate," I grab her arm before she starts down the hallway.

"Why is it a secret, anyway? Why can't you tell your mom about the skating lessons? I mean, won't she find out eventually?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Amy replies fervently. "You know my mom. She's obsessed with fashion design and modeling. She always talks about how when she was my age, her mom never let her discover her true interests, and how she'll never do that to me, and how isn't it great that I just happen to have the same interests as her?"

"Hey, it's OK," I pat her shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Listen, I won't tell anyone. And just for the record, I have a feeling Evan won't either."

Amy nods. "Yeah, she's actually really nice when you get to know her." She pauses, then shrugs. "Anyway, thanks!" With that, she sprints down the hall as the bell rings.

"Hey, Mom, did you like book club when you were my age?"

The question startles my mother, who looks up from the files she's rifling through. "Why do you ask, hon?" Her long hair falls over her shoulder like a waterfall. I notice that it's longer than mine.

"Just wondering," I fiddle with the cuff of my sweater, avoiding her gaze.

"Well, I'll be honest," Mom comes over and sits next to me. "At first, I didn't like it. I wasn't friends with anyone there, except for Emma." She pauses and bites her lip. "I mean, this sounds strange now, but Megan and Cassidy were pretty mean back then. And I...well, I wasn't exactly the most vocal girl in the world. And my mom," She sighs slightly. "Well, my mom was AWOL for the first year of book club. You know how she was in that soap opera?"

I nod.

"Well, she was in New York for the first year. But she still read the book with us."

"When did you and the other girls become...friends?" I ask quickly. Mom smiles and ruffles my hair like I'm 3 years old.

"Kate, don't worry. I know it's rough right now, with all the girls fighting like this, but you'll soon patch things up. I promise," She strides back over to her file folder, then jumps. "Oh! I forgot!" She tapes up her file folder and drops it onto the small white-paneled desk by the turret. "Evan's mom called this morning. Did you know she was sick?"

"Um, I think I heard something about that," I say, avoiding her eyes.

"Well, anyway, she's having her birthday party next weekend. She's inviting all the book club girls and a few other kids from school. It's at her house next Saturday. I told her you could go. Is that OK?"

"Oh, um, sure..." This must be fate. Earlier this week, I would have steered away from anything to do with Evan Wallace. But after talking with Amy...well, she did say she was really nice.

"That's fine," I say, heading for the living room with my piano book under my arm. At least Diana will be at the party, and maybe...maybe Mom's right. Maybe this whole book club thing will turn out OK in the end.

Maybe?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just wanted to say a quick sorry for the slow plotline so far. Hopefully now it will pick up a little! Thanks again to all the reviewers and loyal readers! You guys rock! Also VERY sorry that I have not posted in so long-I blame writer's block and homework :)**

**Diana**

"Have fun!" Mom imparts as I jump out of the car.

"Fun" is the last thing on my mind as I glance at the Wallace's huge house, already packed with kids from school. Music blasts through the door as I open it, hitting me full in the face.

I try to see above the throng of kids, a general mass of height never reaching above five feet. It's like being an ant in a field of grass-but twice as disorienting. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but why does it feel like I'm always the shortest kid in the room?

Suddenly, I see Alberta and Trixie wading through the crowd, Alberta clutching Alex Dougall's arm and laughing hysterically. I didn't know they were going to be here.

"Oh my gosh, Alex, you are sooooooo funny," Alberta cackles, her overly-made-up eyes sparkling. Alex, I'm a bit pleased to see, looks like he would rather slam his face in a door than be talking with her. I probably would, too.

"Out of the way, Di-AN-na," Alberta drawls, chopping my name into infinitesimal, molasses-thick syllables. I turn to find them standing right behind me. Alberta looks poised to strike, like a cobra or something.

"Hey, Di, is it true your parents named you after a character from Anne of Green Gables?" Trixie asks snarkily. I'll bet you anything it was McKenzie who slipped that juicy little tidbit of information. I stare hard at the floor. Just go away...

"Is it true that you're named after a province?" I snap, embarassment giving way to irritation for one moment.

Wait, what did I just say?

Alberta lets out an audible gasp, her manicured hand clamped around her hot pink lips. Her entire face has gone slack. Alex, who's been silent until this point, whistles with admiration. "Ouch! One for Chadwick!" He slaps me a high five, and secretly I'm pleased.

Trixie, however, is oblivious. "Oh, yeah? Which character? Anne?" She lets loose a stream of root-beer infused giggles while the rest of us watch. Heat pools in my cheeks, and my voice gains strength as I blurt out, "Uh, no. I was named after Diana Barry, Anne's best friend." I manage to stop myself there. My mom was sure I knew all the history of my "literary name," and even made me read the books a year or two ago. But of course, I've tried to keep that all on the down low. Nothing nerdier than being named after a book character.

Yup.

"Wow, well, OK," Alberta bounces back , the edge in her voice returning. She glances around the living room and sighs. "This party is sooo lame. If anyone sees Evan, tell her happy birthday or whatever." She pauses. "Hey, where's McKayla anyway?"

I suddenly realize she's nowhere around-which is odd because usually she's always tailing Albera like a shadow. A sparkly, perfume-bathed shadow.

"She's probably hanging out with her book club buddies," Trixie intones, nudging Alex. "She's in a book club with a bunch of nerds. How unfair is that?"

"Oh, Trix, he doesn't care about that!" Alberta links her arm through Alex's and smiles flirtatiously. He ignores her and waves to me. "Hey, Diana. How's your brother's team this year?"

"Pretty good," I reply casually. I don't know Alex very well, but he hangs out with my brother sometimes, even though Adam's in eighth grade.

As Alberta whisks Alex away, she shoots twin sapphire sabers in my direction. "You'll be soooo sorry, BARRY," She growls. Despite the embarassment and disbelief of the moment, I feel like doing a little victory dance. Imagine-shy, quiet, geeky little Diana Chadwick taking on big, bad, queen bee Alberta Knowlton? And in front of a boy?

Suddenly, Mrs. Wallace glides into view, her limber frame easily recognizable over the mass of sixth graders milling around. She waves when she sees me. "Hi, Diana!" she ruffles my hair like we're old friends, which we're not, but for once I'm too giddy to care. "The girls are all downstairs in the den if you want to join them. Pretty soon everyone will come into the dining room to eat, but if you want to hang out until then, feel free."

I make my way down the stairs to the den, where Evan and Amy are engaged in a fierce air-hockey competition. It looks like Evan's winning. I'm not at all suprised, of course.

"I'm still having trouble on my arabesques," Amy moans, knocking the puck smartly across the thin white table. Her shiny black hair flops over one eye.

"They're pretty tough, I know," Evan agrees, swilling her mallet like a gear shift before returning with a venegance. "We can work on those more next week. I have a couple good techniques-"

"Hey, Diana!" Kate melts out of the shadows, startling Evan and Amy so much that the air hockey puck lifts off the table and wings into the far wall.

"Hi," I begin awkwardly, easing out of the doorway as Amy retrieves the air hockey puck. Without a word, the two begin the game again, leaving me and Kate in silence.

"Guess what?" I say, rearranging my beanie as the clack-clack of the air hockey game starts up again. "I stood up to Alberta! Like, two minutes ago upstairs!"

Kate's jaw drops. "What? Diana, are you serious?" It's not every day anyone can stand up to Alberta. I think the last girl that did ended up transferring. I can't even remember her name, it was that long ago.

I nod, a small smile slivering my face. "It was unexpected, really. See, she was there with Trixie, and they started making fun of my name, right? So then I tell Alberta she was named after a province in Canada, and she freaks out. And then Alex-"

"Alex DOUGALL was there?" The look on Kate's face, you'd think I'd just told her that the President of the United States had been perched on Alberta's arm. I blinked. "Oh, yeah! He was with Alberta and Trixie. Anyway, he thought it was awesome! Man, and then both of them got all freaked out..." I sigh, picturing the moment like a happy dream.

"Dude, that's not good," Evan and Amy have been listening too, and suddenly Evan has a look of admiration and horror twirled on her face. "I mean, congratulations and everything, but insulting Alberta..." Her whirlygig red hair seems to glow in the dim rec room light. "That's baaad."

"I-I guess," Cold numbness is trickling between my toes now, spreading up through my ankles and swooping towards my stomach. It was just one little comment-Alberta makes them all the time. I'm starting to realize that in her eyes, I'm now enemy number 1. Not only did I insult her name, I did it in front of Alex Dougall, the cutest boy in school and her sole crush. Even though she played it cool in front of him, her next move is clear.

This means war.

"Oh, hey, I think it's time to eat," Evan says suddenly, cutting the ominous tension. We move up the stairs quickly and quietly. Kate shoots a glance my way as we head to the dining room. "Don't worry about it, Diana. I mean, Alberta's a big drama queen, but I doubt she'll try anything. Not here, anyways. Not tonight."

"Of course not," Amy pipes up. "I mean, she's not exactly stupid. She knows Evan's mom is a pretty tough contender. It's not like she's going to pour salt in your soda, or put whipped cream in your tennis shoes, or tape weights to your-"

"She gets it, Ames." Evan taps Amy's shoulder and tosses her eyes to the ceiling. "Anyway, yeah. Diana, don't worry. Alberta won't try anything tonight. We'll take care of that."

"Really?" Ever since the blowup at the meeting last month, Evan and Amy have basically kept to themselves. They've hardly talked to us, only to double-check homework and book club assignments and things like that. But now...huh.

Dinner passes quickly without injury. When the cake comes out, everyone oohs and aahs. It's a beautiful creation, dark chocolate cake frosted with pale blue icing and piled with yellow frosting roses and sprinkled with white chocolate shavings. Rumor has it that Evan's grandma catered the party-as in, the famous former model and cooking show host, Clementine Sloane. It takes amazing.

After cake, everyone fans out to play ping pong and Spoons and games like that. Suprisingly, Amy and Evan stick with me and Kate when we pull out a checker board. "I play winner," Amy announces as we lay out the pieces. "Be my guest," I reply, a little surprised by the offer. I know, of course, that Kate will cream her anyways. Sure enough, Kate takes me down in two seconds, then Amy, then finally Evan, who admits defeat about a quarter of the way through the game. "Sorry, but I'm just gonna give up now," Evan says the moment Kate gets her first king. "I don't take defeat well. Better if I forfeit."

We talk for awhile, although it's awkward. We're still not friends, more like two groups of aquantainces. But right now, I don't think any of us mind. Right now, that's all we need. I mean, a week ago none of us were talking to each other.

Somehow the subject up Little Women comes up. "I actually kinda like it," Amy admits shyly, fingering the collar of her blouse. "I didn't think I would, but I do. All the girls are really unique."

Kate nods. "Me too. I don't like reading very much, but the story is so...radom, almost, that I can't help it. Plus, I saw the play last year and that was really good, too."

"Hey," I say suddenly. I scan the room. "McKayla never showed up. Was she invited?"

"Yeah," Evan shrugs it off. "I guess she just decided not to come."

"Do you think this has anything to do with us?" A note of worry slips into Kate's voice. Amy doesn't look up. "I'm willing to bet it does," she mumbles. My stomach tightens, and I feel guilty, the four of us here having a good time, while McKayla's holed up at home convinced we're all mad at her. Which someone may be, who knows?

"Well, if she wants to apologize, fine," Evan replies, her bright eyes fixated on Alberta across the room. She's smushed nest to Trixie on the couch, texting furiously. Probably updating the world about how that jerk Diana Chadwick dissed her.

"We'll see her at book club tomorrow," I add, hoping that will help. Probably not.

After the party's over, and everyone leaves, the four of us wave good-bye to each other, which is a big step. I can't help feeling bad, though. I'm worried abut McKayla.

_Serves her right,_ the Evan-like voice in my head argues. _If she wanted to be friends, she'd extend her hand, right? It's not your fault._

_Or is it?_ The Kate-like voice counters. _You haven't exactly welcomed her with open arms since the fight._

I'm too confused to think about it right now. Part of me is happy, because I'm becoming quasi-friends with Amy and Evan. At last, at last, maybe some peace in book club!

But the larger part of me is scared straight. I haven't forgotten Alberta's threats, her look of dead anger as she walked away with Alex, the slack disbelief on her face, the way Kate and Evan and Amy stood by me like personal guards until Alberta left the party.

Sigh. Somehow I have a feeling that this war won't be over for awhile.

**A/N: bum-bum-bum! Random plot twist much? Sorry if this chapter is kind of lame-I just kind of slapped it down in a few days. Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know you're all ready to kill me. I am so sorry I haven't posted in, like, over 3 months. I have taken on several new stories and this kinda got put on the backburner, plus I had a lot going on with the end of the school year...but I promise now I will try to post quicker. Thanks for your patience and keep reviewing!

Amy

"Turn around, honey," Mom orders with a flick of her ringed fingers. Her eyes are slightly narrowed and her cheeks are sucked in-the classic look she gets when she's about to criticize something.

Reluctantly, I twirl in a circle, the stuffy faux-velvet of the dress I'm modeling swishing around my ankles in an unappealing crunch.

Marie, my mom's personal assistant, nods slightly and scribbles something on her clipboard. "Nice, but not on her." Her violet eyes flick up and down my profile critically. "She needs something more...flimsy. Her bone structure can't handle heavy fabrics. She needs...oh, get that organza swing dress. I can just see her in that." Suddenly Marie's the manager and Mom's the assistant. I'd smile, but I'm in too much mental pain.

At the moment, I. Am. Not. Happy. At. All. My mom somehow managed to find an opening for me in her next fashion show-in about four months, go figure-and now I am being subjected to modeling every outfit she whisks out of the rattling costume stand. I've been draped in everything from gossamer to chenile, in colors spanning from misty grey to violent yellow. But the most humiliating part? Everything I put on looks hideous on me.

"Here we are," Mom reenters the room, carrying something whisper-thin under her arm. Marie turns to me, her grey-blonde hair slightly disheveled. "Hon, are you sure you want to do this?" Her eyes are searching.

I want to say "No, I don't," and get the heck out of here. I want to say, "I'd rather die than be a model," or maybe just run away. But my mother cuts in before I have a chance to do any of that.

"Of course she does," She says, unfolding her arms and setting a flouncy party dress on the nearby chaise. "It's so refreshing, Marie, I gotta tell you. I mean, my mom always refused to let me follow my dream, you know? She wanted me to be an environmental lawyer and chase after global warming and whatnot, and I doubt she really ever was OK with my fashion career. Which is why," Mom pats my shoulder affectionately, "I am so happy that Amy and I have the same interests. I can encourage her passion and give her advice." She turns to me. "Amy, honey, are you OK?"

I realize tears are swimming in my eyes. "Oh, I just, um, yawned," I say quickly, swiping at my eyelids. It's not fair! My mom thinks she's being the most supportive person in the world, but she's never even asked me what I want to do with my life. She just assumed I'd want to do what she does. The same way her mom did.

"All right, honey, let's get this on you," Marie hands me the dress and smiles. "Let's hope it works."

The dress, I will admit, is really pretty. It's a shimmery teal, with a short and flouncy skirt aided by thin petticoats. The top is fitted, with a decoration at the bust line and buttons down the stomach. Two thin straps tie at the base of the neck, and a small white flower is sewn to the hip.

"Well, try it on, sweetie," Marie says through clenched teeth. Immediately, I pull it over my head and turn to my mother, who gasps.

"It's beautiful," She breathes.

Dang it.

I turn to look in the mirror, and I have to admit I actually do look nice in it. The dress is just the right color for my skin, and makes my hair look even darker than usual. The dress fits my body perfectly, and the skirt just skims my kneecaps.

I look pretty.

"Oh, my baby girl," My mom starts blubbering, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "You look so grown up. It seems like just yesterday you were learning how to walk, and now-"

"Mo-oooom!" I groan, rolling my eyes. I hate it when she does this. Which is not that often, seeing as she's criticizing my posture or commenting on my choice of nail polish color - "big things" like that. But at the same time, I can't help feeling a little pleased.

Then Marie ruins it. "So should we write her down for this one?" She pulls the dress at my waist, frowning absentmindedly.

Mom doesn't even flinch. "Of course. This is the dress for her. Two weeks from now, the world will see Meagan Rose Archer-Wong's own daughter wear her latest and greatest Gigi creation!" She waves her arms melodramatically, her eyes fixed on something in middle distance. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Suddenly, my cell phone lying on the chaise goes off. I move to answer it, but Marie picks it up before I can. Her beady eyes scan the screen, and my heart stops as she says, "Someone named Evan is texting you, asking where you are." Her caterpillar eyebrows meet over her eyes in a confused expression.

I suck in my breath and glance at my watch. Shoot. I was supposed to be at skating lessons five minutes ago. We were going to practice until 6 before going to book club at Diana's house. Of course, I hadn't planned on dress-up taking this long. Or my mother's snoopy assistant looking at my text messages.

"Oh, I was supposed to meet Evan at the library to study for our History test," I babble, firing off the same excuse I've been spoon-feeding my mother ever since skating lessons got started. "I'm really, really late," I continue, already untying my dress. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but Amy, honey, remember to meet me at Diana's house for book club afterwards!" Mom calls as I run upstairs and pull on some jeans and a sweater.

"Got it!" I grab my bike out of the garage and take off towards the ice rink at breakneck speed. I swerve to avoid joggers, cars, and dogs, and don't slow down until the familiar sight of the Eva Bergeson Memorial Ice Center comes into view. As I push through the front door, a group of tall, limber-looking girls passes by me, laughing and slinging the skates over their shoulders. With a stab of envy, I wish I could joing them. But for now, secret lessons is all I've got.

Evan is waiting for me, still wearing her costume from Spice n' Ice rehearsal. She looks spectacular, all decked out in her black and purple glitter ensemble. It looks way more fashionable than half the outfits my mom stuffed me in today.

"Sorry I'm late," I gasp as I pull on my skates and follow Evan out onto the ice. "My mom was going all super-fashion-diva on me and I got stuck in a bit of a clothing debacle, so I had to speed all the way here, and-"

"Amy, relax, it's fine," Evan says, grinning as we do a lap to warm up. "Practice went overtime, anyways, so you're right on time." As we glide around a sharp turn, she switches to coach mode. "All right, so I think you were a little sloppy on those Salchow jumps last time, so we'll work on those a lot more. Also, I think we should review basic lutzs before going into the more advanced ones."

An hour later, I'm sweating my butt off, to use the common phrase. We've jumped, spun, dipped, swung, and slid until the ice is covered in shreads and shavings. Evan is grinning from ear to ear, though, so I must have done OK.

"Awesome job, Amy, you're really improving," Evan says as she drains the last of her energy drink. "Seriously, you should think about signing up for classes."

"I've told you-" I start, but Evan cuts me off. "I know about your mom and everything, but if you want to take this more seriously, there are a ton of figure skating clubs and classes here that you can sign up for. My mom could probably pull a few strings to get you in mid-season, or..."

"Thanks," I say slowly, refusing to meet Evan's eyes. "But I don't know if I can just yet." I feel awful for making Evan waste all her time, teaching me to skate while I hide from my problems, but I don't know any other way to handle it.

Not yet, anyway.

"Oh, did you hear?" Evan asks as we head to the locker rooms to change. "Kate heard Alberta and Trixie talking to McKayla in the bathroom the other day...something about Diana. I think it means the revenge is still on." Obviously, Alberta is serious about getting back at Diana for showing her up at Evan's party last week. SO far, nothing's happened, but you can never tell with Alberta.

"So that means McKayla still hates us?" I ask lightly as I peel off my damp mittens. I know, of course, that she does, but I still don't know why. I mean, we've never done anything to her per se, if you don't count Diana and McKayla's argument at the beginning of the year.

"Yeah, I guess," Evan replies, shaking off her sweaty leggings and stuffing them in her backpack. "But, on the upside, Kate said McKayla didn't sound too happy about Alberta's ideas. Maybe she's not so hot on the popular crowd anymore after all."

I doubted this very much, especially since McKayla had called Diana a loser two days previous. But you never know, I thought, as we headed to Diana's house. The year was changing. Maybe we were too.

"So did you do the assigned reading?" Evan asks as we park our bikes and come through the front door. "I didn't understand the whole thing about Jo and Professor Bhaer, because I always thought she would end up with..."

Evan's frozen suddenly, her eyes transfixed on something just past the entryway. I turn and follow her gaze, and my stomach turns to stone.

My mother is waiting for us, hands on hips, her fingers wrapped around something small and shiny.

My cell phone. I've kept, for some idiot reason, all of our plans on there, all of our secret ice skating meetings.

"Hi, Mom," I say quietly, my voice trembling. "What's up?"

My mother doesn't say anything, simply holds out my phone for me to see. SKATING LESSONS W/ EVAN, 2:15 glows at me in an incriminatory way. I glance at Evan, who's glaring at the floor. We've been found out.

"You left this on the couch. Marie found it. How was your tutoring lesson?" Mom asks. Her voice is so full of fury it's lower than I've ever heard.

"Mom, please, listen," I begin, but Mom cuts me off.

"Amy Elizabeth Archer, how could you lie to me like this?" she explodes. tears gleam in her eyes. "How dare you sneak around behind my back - and drag Evan into this too!"

"Mrs. Archer, please, listen," Evan pipes up earnestly. I notice the other moms and daughters have come into the hall to listen. I'm too ashamed to look at them either. "Amy really wants to be a figure skater, and she's really good. I was just telling her that she should enroll in lessons."

"That's sweet, Evan, but it was thoughtless of her to waste your time giving her private lessons. Besides, Amy, you want a career in fashion, anyway. This whole charade was pointless."

Suddenly it's all too much - the look on my mother's face, the way Evan refuses to meet my eyes, the inquisitory gazes from the other girls - and I burst into tears.

"You never asked me what I wanted!" I know I'm screaming, but I don't care. "You always assumed I would do what you expected me to do! You claim you're nothing like your mother, but you ARE! You're just the same! Why can't you let me be myself?"

The last shrill syllable rings in the hallway. My mom looks like she's been slapped hard in the face. Evan's left the room. The rest of the mothers look torn. I know they're waiting for their stupid meeting to start, so they can talk about stupid Little Women and drink their stupid tea and read their stupid handouts. But I guess that's it for me. Mom will probably pull me out of book club, and I sure won't be able to set foot on the ice ever again.

So what? I don't want to be part of book club anyway.

A/N: So here it is. It's not very good, I just finished it now. I promise more chapters will come soon - and hopefully quicker. Also, as a reader participation thing, I am asking anyone to submit ideas for Alberta's revenge on Diana ;). Please PM me if you have any suggestions. It's kind of a competition, so if I choose you, I'll favorite you as an author and mention you as part of this story! Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'M BACK GUYS! Again, sorry for the marathon delays, there's really no excuse aside from sheer business and the ever-present writer's block. I wanted to get this up last night, but FF was being annoying :P Just want to say a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed/stuck with his story and put up with my super-lame updating. Not much else to say here, except to enjoy!**

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McKayla

"So, McKayla, how's life?"

Zach's over for dinner again, and has started his timely round of 'general interest' questions. "How's life" is usually first, followed by "What new activities are you doing" and "How is school?"

"Um, pretty good," I reply, listlessly twirling my spaghetti around my fork. I refuse to meet his gaze and let on that I have just told a flat-out lie. Because, in fact, life is anything but 'pretty good' right now.

Things have been pretty strained since the big blowup at book club two weeks ago. Sure, Evan, Amy, Diana and Kate are all still friends, but they always seem to wander around looking lost, all wounded looks and sad whispers. Yeah, 'cause they have it SO hard. Poor Amy doesn't get to skate with her best friend anymore and they both got grounded for two weeks. Boo-hoo.

Meanwhile, I on the other hand am getting worried. Zach and my mother have been going out for nearly six months now. SIX MONTHS! That sounds like nothing, Mom married Dad five months after they started dating. So Mom's already passed engagement time, and who knows what's going to happen next?

Don't be confused, there's nothing inherently wrong with Zach. He's really nice and friendly, he's respectful and even came to Trisha's ballet recital (and even applauded, which took guts because it was a terrible show). But…he's not my father.

I never really knew my dad all that well, since he left when I was littler. But, he's still my dad, through and through, and I can't see Zach taking his place.

When dinner's over, I retreat to my room while Zach and my mom say their goodbyes. I try to ignore the sound of kissing that I hear right before the door closes. And the fact that Zach calls goodbye to me, too, before he leaves.

Usually, my mom tries to come "talk" to me after she and Zach have a date, but not tonight, thankfully. All she ever does is apologize to me for all the confusion and asks me how I feel about it all. I always just shrug. Like saying what I really think would change Mom's mind.

I try to concentrate on my homework, but it's not use. My mind is in overdrive, what with Zach and all that's going on with the book club. The only ones I have anymore are Alberta and Trixie, even though they're starting to bother me more and more. They won't shut up about me being in the Mother-Daughter Book Club, even though I tell them every single day that it wasn't my idea and I would quit if I could. But they don't listen.

Speaking of book club…

Shoving my homework aside, I pull _Little Women _out of my backpack. Even though I still hate book club, I don't mindthe book_. _As a matter of fact, I actually really like it. All the girls are really original and their adventures make me laugh and cry. Jo used to be my favorite, but lately, I like Beth. She's so quiet, and often overlooked, a little like me.

Right now, we're getting near the end. According to the mothers, we're moving a lot faster than they did when they read the book. Beth's getting sick, and I know she's going to die. We all do, but no one wants to say it. Even though she's only a book character, it's like she's real to us.

Real to me.

The next day at school, I come into class to find Alberta and Trixie giggling uncontrollably in the back. "What's up with you guys?" I ask as I go to join them, slinging my backpack over the back of my chair.

Alberta gives me a sly smile, her bright blue eyes narrowed. "Revenge. That's what." Trixie bursts into laughter again.

I have a feeling I knew what they were talking about. "You mean…" I glance at Diana, who has just come into the room and is unpacking her bag, her back to us.

Alberta nods. "Exactly. If she wants to mess with me, she has to face the consequences."

Listening to the edge in Alberta's voice, I can't help but feel uneasy. "So, uh…what are you going to do?"

Alberta turns to Trixie, who stops giggling long enough to whisper the plan. "Alberta's been telling everyone that Diana has a crush on Trevor Lyons." She and Alberta dissolve back into fits of laughter.

"That geeky kid?" For some reason, I feel nervous. "He's been in love with Diana forever now."

"Exactly," Alberta hisses. "At least Trevor gets what he wants from this situation. And Alex will definitely not talk to Diana again. It's a win-win."

For who? I want to ask, but of course I don't. Because I already know.

Now I'm really nervous. "So, when is she going to find out?" I ask, sitting down to calm the uncertain quake in my stomach.

Alberta shrugs. "I don't know. It's all over the school, so she'll most likely know by lunch."

As the day progresses, however, it's obvious that Diana's not catching on. A ton of people give her weird looks in the hallway, but all she does is act confused. No one's telling her what's up. And with each passing hour, I get more nervous.

I don't even understand why. Diana and I have never been friends – in fact, we've been anything but since she basically insulted me at book club. But, something about this just feels really, really wrong.

Two months ago, I don't think I would have felt this way. I probably would have come up with the plan itself. But…

Maybe it's because of Little Women. Or Zach and Mom. Or the fact that Alberta's not becoming so cool anymore, just obnoxious. But whatever it is, I just know that this is not going to end well. For Diana, because she's going to be the most humiliated she's ever been.

And for me, because I'm probably going to do something stupid.

I don't have long to wait. Alberta quickly gets bored with Diana's lack of humiliation and decides to just explain it all to her personally.

Diana rounds the corner with the other book club girls, all of them talking with their heads bent. Knowing them, it was probably about baking or books or something.

But as I get closer, I hear Amy say, "…I wish that I could see it, but my mom's banned me from the rink." Unbelievable! They're STILL talking about the skating incident?

Alberta rounds on Diana the minute she's in earshot. "Hey, Diana," Alberta coos, her voice dripping with poison. Diana freezes in her tracks, the others coming up short behind her. She looks like a deer locked in headlights, and Alberta notices.

"So, I heard a rumor going around that somebody has a not-so-little crush on a certain Trevor Lyons?" Alberta's in full mean-queen-bee mode now, staring Diana down like her eyes could shoot daggers. I've never seen her this upset over anyone.

But it's not just anyone. It's all over Alex, who paid attention to Diana and not Alberta.

Diana's face goes brick red, and she almost drops her books. "What? Wh-where did you hear that?" She stutters. Amy, Kate, and Evan all look at each other, shocked. Then I see Evan glance at Alberta, and whisper something to Kate, who nods. They know what's up.

Meanwhile, Alberta's still holding Diana hostage. "Oh, come one, Diana. The whole school's talking about it. And beside, you two would make such a perfect match. The book club freak and the science geek. What could be better?"

By now, a small crowd has assembled around Alberta and Diana, and for some reason I think of those Roman coliseums, the ones where the lions would be set free to devour the martyrs for the enjoyment of the spectators.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Alberta. Just leave me alone," Diana mumbles, voice shaking. She looks like she might cry. To add salt to the wound, Alex has showed up, watching Alberta with confusion. Diana looks like she's ready to cry.

"Of course you do, Diana! Fess up, you like Trevor Lyons. And we all know he likes you. In fact, why don't we find him and you can tell him yourself?"

"STOP!"

Silence falls, almost deafening, as everyone turns to see who just shouted. As their eyes fall on me, I feel my face get hot. Alberta arches an eyebrow, stepping towards me. "What?" she hisses, the dominance in her voice fading. "What's the big deal, here, McKayla? It's just Diana. It's just a joke."

"Yeah, well," I say anticlimactically, straddling the straps of my backpack for support. "It's not funny. Just leave her alone, okay?"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Alberta gets in my face all of a sudden, losing her cool. "Whose side are you on here, anyway?"

"I'm…not on anyone's side right now," I start weakly. "I'm just saying, it's really not that big of a deal, you know?"

"Listen to me, McKayla," Alberta lowers her voice, speaking straight to me. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you're already on thin ice with me right now, okay? So just – "

"Alberta, everyone knows that you're just jealous of Diana because Alex likes her better than you!" The words are out of my mouth before I could stop them, loud and harsh as a gunshot. All the confusion and irritation and anger from the past few months have finally gotten the better of me. The whole hallway goes silent in that instant, and Alberta's mouth drops open.

"What did you say?" She says through gritted teeth. For an instant, I want to take it back, apologize to her, grovel for forgiveness. But then, I look at Diana, whose face is frozen. She looks confused, but grateful. Extremely grateful.

I take a deep breath, staring at Alberta squarely in the eye. "I said that everyone knows you're just jealous of Diana because Alex likes her better than you. So just leave her alone, okay? Just leave everyone alone."

Alberta gives me another funny look, then shakes her head. "That was your last chance, McKayla. You blew it. Have fun trying to make friends with the losers."

"Don't worry, I will," I murmur as she flounces away, Trixie hurrying in her wake, but I'm not sure if I'm serious about that.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and everyone scatters to get their books. I stay where I am, still trying to sort out what just happened. So…I guess I'm not friends with Alberta anymore? Somehow, the sting is less painful than I expected. Yet at the same time, I have a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach – just like that, I'm totally without friends. No doubt Alberta will try to turn her talons to me next, but there's not much she can do – I insulted her in front of the majority of the grade, and now they all know about Alberta's crush on Alex. That, and she's jealous of Diana.

With a sigh, I turn on my heel and start to head off to Social Studies, when a voice stops me.

"Hey, McKayla,"

I turn around, and am surprised to see Diana walking towards me, the other members of the Mother Daughter Book Club in tow. She looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

"I just wanted to say…thank you. A lot," She says, relief evident in her voice. "I know it was hard for you, since Alberta's your friend and all, and…"

"It's nothing," I say quickly, though I'm secretly pleased. It's not like I'm planning on becoming BFFs with them anytime soon, but it was nice of Diana to at least extend herself a little.

"No, really, I just…" Diana pauses, thinking of something else to say. She looks so uncomfortable right then, that I decide to take the pressure off of her and do a second nice thing for her.

"I'm sorry about the whole book club blow up, too," I say. "It wasn't right."

Diana looks a little shocked, but smiles. "Yeah, I'm sorry too." She says meekly. Kate, Evan, and Amy smile at me too, and I return it, tentatively.

"Anyway," I say awkwardly, checking my watch as means of distraction. "I gotta get to class, but.."

"See you at book club?" Evan pipes up. I grin at her, suddenly feeling lighter than I have in a long time.

"Definitely," I reply.

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**A/N: Okay, so there you go...I'm actually going to start (bumbumBUM) wrapping this story up soon...I was only envisioning about 15 chapters for the whole thing from the start, so just to warn you. ALSO, I have NOT read Home for the Holidays yet, but I will! Soon! I hope! Anyway, special thanks to schoolcandyshoppe and kgorange for kind words of encouragement and motivation through the past couple of chapters :) And yeah, again, I'm so sorry...hopefully, it will never get this bad again. Au revoir! **


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